


Let's Do Lunch

by shadowmaat



Series: A Bounty of Brothers [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, a new troublemaker appears, dude where's my speeder, real food is such a luxury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 22:24:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16004543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/pseuds/shadowmaat
Summary: Mimic was supposed to meet General Mar and her contact outside Dex's, but a strange woman lures him in and tempts him with something he's never had before: real food!





	Let's Do Lunch

The mission briefing had seemed straightforward enough; go to Varaxin, investigate a bolt-hole rumored to belong to General Sifo-Dyas, recover any information that may have been left behind, and turn it over to the High Council. Simple was good, as far as Mimic was concerned. What  _ wasn’t _ simple, however, was that he was currently standing in front of a random civvie diner looking very conspicuous as he waited for his general so they could discuss transportation with a contact of hers.

He resisted the urge to check his chrono again. General Mar undoubtedly had a good reason for being late, so all he had to do was be patient. And try to ignore the stares of people passing by. He’d started off pacing, but that only seemed to attract more attention, so now he was standing at parade rest and trying not to fidget.

“Got stood up, huh?”

He jumped, turning to find a human woman with purple and blue hair smirking at him. There was a matching purple and blue eyepatch over her left eye.

“Uh, no, ma’am,” he said, remembering to smile. “Just waiting for someone.”

“You can wait inside, can’t you?” 

He froze.  _ Could he? _ Mar had said to meet him here. Would she think to look for him inside? Was he allowed to say no? Did he  _ want _ to say no? The food smells had been tormenting him for close to an hour, now. But then again if he went inside he’d be surrounded by civvies. Including the one smiling at him right now.

“I- I think I’m okay right here, thanks.” He wished he’d studied more about interacting with civilians. 

“You sure?” She tilted her head, reminding him of skimmer hawk. “It’s past lunch. I can at least get you a plate of fries while you wait.”

His stomach gurgled. He knew he should say no, but when she gestured for him to follow he let her lead him into Dex’s Diner. He had to pause a moment as the smells overwhelmed him. Frying food, caf, spices, and other things he couldn’t identify. He swallowed, then swallowed again. It all smelled so good.

Some instincts were wired in, though, so even as he was in danger of openly drooling he still did an automatic assessment of the diner’s interior, checking the exits, noting which booths were occupied and how likely they were to pose a threat. There were a few races he didn’t recognize, but while there were a couple of suspicious characters no one seemed to show any interest in them.

“Here.” The woman guided him to a seat in an empty booth and stuck a menu in his hands. “Pick anything you want, my treat.”

A besalisk in a smudged apron peered through the window from the kitchen and grinned.

“Trix? Who let you back on Coruscant? And when did you start stealing from the Army, eh?” He gestured at Mimic.

“Uh, actually,” Mimic started to say.

“Not stolen, just borrowed,” Trix said, reaching over to pat Mimic’s arm. “The poor thing was left to starve to death out front.”

“Starve? In front of my diner? Never!” Dex slapped the partition. “You get him whatever he wants to eat and I’ll double it. Hmph! Can’t have our soldiers starving on my doorstep, can we?”

“Exactly!” Trix beamed at him and then turned the full wattage on Mimic. “Go wild, cutie.”

Heat flashed through his cheeks. Cute? Him? He was no cuter than the rest of his brothers. Maybe that was all she meant. Ducking his head, he focused on the menu. He’d had  _ no idea _ food could come in so many varieties! There were six different options for burgers! And that was only the meat varieties, there were also vegetable and fish ones and a few he wasn’t sure about. Plus there were sandwiches and salads and soups and half a page of desserts. In the end he chose a sampler of the “sliders” and a cup of caf.

“He’ll also have a slice of namana cream pie,” Trix said as they placed their orders with a server droid.

“Namana what?” He’d had namana-flavored “treat” rations before. They coated the mouth so it was all you could taste for the next three meals.

“Trust me, you’ll love it.” She propped her chin on her hand and gazed at him, smiling. “So tell me, what’s your name? Or shall I just keep calling you Cutie?”

“Mimic,” he said, looking her right in the eye. She’d caught him off guard before, but he was a trained soldier, dammit, and he wasn’t going to let himself get flustered by some civvie just because she was being  _ nice _ to him.

Her eye widened; she wasn’t looking away, either. “Mimic, huh? And how’d you get that name?”

The door jingled and he almost folded himself over the table in his haste to come to attention.

“General!” He saluted as Mar entered, the relief clear on her face as she saw him.

“Mimic, you’re alright!” Her attention shifted to Trix, who turned in her seat to wave. “And Trix. Why am I not surprised?” 

A Nautolan eyeroll involved the whole head and Mimic never got tired of seeing it. He moved over to make room for her as she joined them.

“Sorry, sir,” he said. “I know you said to wait outside, but, uh-”

“Don’t worry about it, Mimic.” She patted his arm. “I’m sorry I was so late. Someone stole my speeder.” She shifted to face Trix. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Trix clucked her tongue. “The crime around here is just terrible! But have you considered that maybe you just forgot where you parked it?”

Mimic frowned. That didn’t sound like the General at all.

“I  _ know _ where I parked it.” Mar paused to place her order before continuing. “You realize that’s Temple property, right?”

Trix flicker her fingers at her. “I’m sure if you think about it you’ll remember where you left it. Speaking of needing a ride, though, what’s this about you wanting to hitch a lift offworld?”

“Wait,” Mimic said.  _ “Trix _ is your contact?” 

Mar’s brow ridges rose. “She didn’t tell you? So why are you with her?”

He felt the blood drain from his face. “Uh-”

“He got tired of waiting and came inside,  _ faint _ with hunger,” Trix said. “I had just joined him and was making introductions when you so rudely interrupted.”

“That isn’t quite how it happened,” he said, caught between guilt at the implication of why he’d disobeyed his General and relief that Trix had helped him.

“Really, Issykins.” She shook her head. “I thought they taught you Jedi better manners than that.”

_ Issykins?! _ Mimic tried to wrap his mind around the nickname.

Mar groaned, massaging the sensitive tissue near her gills. “Never mind. We’re all here now so we might as well get the details ironed out.”

“Give me the when, where, and how many and I’ll be there.” Trix leaned back as the food arrived.

Mimic missed the next part of the conversation because he took his first bite of what the little flag identified as a Zeltros slider. Flavor exploded across his tongue. The heat of the spices mixed with the tang of the sauce and the smoky richness of seared meat; real meat, not processed proteins! Lettuce and onions- also real- offset it all and the juices soaked into the foodboard underneath. His eyes rolled closed. He chewed slowly, savoring every fresh burst of taste. His jaw ached as his salivary glands kicked into overdrive.

At last, reluctantly, he swallowed and opened his eyes again on a whole new world. And that was only his first bite! There was at least one more in this slider and then four bites more on the other two sliders. Plus a handful of protato wedges that he hadn’t even tried yet.

“Mimic?”

He dragged his attention away from the transcendent experience in front of him and looked at his General. She was smiling at him.

“Sir?” he asked when he found his voice.

“Are you alright?” She brushed a hand across his cheek and her fingers came away wet.

“Kriff!” He ducked his head, hiding the fierce blush as he wiped away the tears. “Sorry, General!”

“Wow,” he heard Trix say. “What the hell do you feed your army?  _ Do _ you feed them?”

He blushed even harder but couldn’t bring himself to put down the rest of the slider.

“I think it’s mostly rations,” Mar said.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, Mimic,” she said. “I never really considered… I should take you all out to eat sometime.”

“Can I watch?” Trix piped up, only to be hushed.

“Finish eating,” Mar told him, rubbing his arm. “I think I’ll see about getting some carry-out for the others. And maybe work on supplementing your rations.”

Stuffing down his embarrassment, Mimic did as ordered, leaving no crumb behind. The caf, at least, tasted familiar, although the cream added an unexpected depth.  _ Real cream _ , Trix whispered in his ear. He swallowed, pretending he didn’t hear.

Despite his preoccupation, he did pay more attention to the conversation happening around him. Trix, it turned out, was a mostly-legitimate transport captain whose ship was big enough to carry them all comfortably with room left over for any supplies they might need. Since her alignment was, as she called it, “chaotic neutral,” rather than tied to either Republic of Separatist registries, it would be easy for her to get them to Varaxin without raising any red flags. 

“Don’t worry, Mimic,” she said, reaching out to pat his hand. “I have nothing but real food on my ship, and while I’m no Dex, I’m still pretty handy in the kitchen. I’ll make sure you and your squad are well fed.”

His mouth was full of full of Hosnian slider, which was drenched in some kind of smokey sauce that made his tongue tingle, so he settled for giving her a nod. Anything that involved more food sounded good to him. He appreciated the touching, too; her fingers were gentle against his skin.

“Just remember, Trix.” Mar wagged an onion ring at her. “You’re  _ only _ the pilot. No joining the mission and no adopting my troops out from under me.”

He swallowed fast at that.  _ “Adopted, _ sir?”

“Would I do that to you?” Trix snatched the onion ring and ate it. “Just the pilot. Got it.” She glanced at Mimic and smiled. “And maybe the chef, too.”

“That reminds me.” Mar waved over the waitress bot and placed a large to-go order. Mimic couldn’t wait until his brothers got to try some of this stuff. Boba had probably eaten real food before, but he was sure the kid would still appreciate it.

“So…” Trix rested her chin on her hand again. “Why do they call you Mimic?”

“Why do they call you Mimic?” he repeated in a close approximation of her voice.

Her eye widened and she grabbed his hand in both of hers.

“Trix, no,” Mar said.

“You are  _ amazing,” _ Trix said.

He blushed, but didn’t try to retrieve his hand. “It’s just a trick I learned. Got me in a lot of trouble back on Kamino.”

“Trix…”

“I’m keeping him,” she told Mar, squeezing his fingers.

“No.” His general swatted her hand to make her let go. “Not yours. Shoo.”

“Just one little clone?” She pleaded. “No one will miss him and I promise to take good care of him.”

“Sorry, miss,” Mimic said, gently breaking her grip. “I’m just a soldier. And General Mar is taking good care of us, anyway.”

He glanced at Mar, who patted his shoulder, smiling. The whole situation left him feeling… weird. It was nice to earn his general’s approval, but Trix’s interest in him was also flattering. Her smile made his heart race and she’d  _ fed _ him. And promised to feed him again. And his brothers, too! 

At that point dessert arrived and he almost lost it again over the namana cream pie. It was about as far from the namana-flavored rations as it was possible to get without entering an alternate universe and he wasn’t convinced he hadn’t.

Mar and Trix were arguing over the “stolen” speeder, with Trix accusing Mar of being absent-minded and Mar firing back by implying that Trix was a thief and deliberately manipulating the situation to her benefit.

Mimic would have been worried, but their tones were friendly and Trix, at least, was laughing. He wondered how they’d met. Maybe some kind of back-alley shootout and a race to get to Trix’s ship ahead of the bad guys. Mar would be deflecting blaster shots with her saber while Trix laid traps to slow down the pursuit. 

Or maybe it was in a dimly-lit bar where the music was loud and the drinks were cheap and life was even cheaper. Or maybe it involved space pirates! He licked his fork clean.

“If you show me where you hid my speeder- I mean,” Mar corrected, “if you help me locate the speeder I  _ somehow _ managed to misplace, then I’ll not only buy you lunch, I’ll talk to Madame Nu about getting you a copy of that holotext you wanted.”

“Really?” Trix grinned. “Deal! I mean, I’m always happy to help out a poor, forgetful friend like you, Issykins.”

Mar shook her head and the two of them stood. He hastened to join them, swigging down the last of his caf. Mar paid for everything and he soon found himself holding several bags worth of delicious-smelling dinners.

“Maybe I should accompany him back to the barracks just to make sure he gets there safely.” Trix moved to hook her arm around him, but Mar tugged her away.

“You still can’t have him,” she said. “Mimic is far too valuable right where he is. Now, about that speeder…”

Trix turned and blew him a kiss before Mar dragged her down the street. He spent the entire trip back to the barracks daydreaming about what their next meal together would be like and wondering if she could teach him how to cook. This mission was going to be  _ great! _


End file.
